Today was better.
After a rough Monday, I reached out to our instructional coach and asked her to observe my classes and look for ways to keep kids engaged with so many of my go-to teaching strategies COVID off-limits.
On Tuesday I brought out my accordion because it related the epistolary poems we were reading and writing. I then played it between all my classes (after spraying down desks), and I think it lifted my spirits--and maybe the spirits of my students. My classes felt lighter.
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Today I incorporated Kahoot games to review concepts in both my English and journalism classes. The competitions were intense and joyful, and we shared explosive clapping when a question was answered correctly by the entire class.
I then paired students for a writing activity using a randomizing wheel. Good energy reigned.
Today we had more laughter than tears. More smiles than resting-bored-face.
I'll call that COVID success.
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In any year, teachers hit bad days, question their effectiveness, doubt their ability, and their purpose.
In normal circumstances, we use every tool in our toolboxes to reach students and teach our content. Experienced teachers (I'm on year 23--or 24--who's counting?) can read a room, react in an instant, switch gears or approaches.
But for the past eight days, I've been trying to do this with an empty toolbox. I'm left with a hammer, a screwdriver, and a face shield.
I am a carpenter. I do know how to build. But I am trying to relearn my trade with minimal tools.
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Meanwhile...
I am distressed for Friendship Haven, the multi-level care facility my parents have lived in these past ten years. At first, they lived in a condo. They were spry octogenarians who led Memoir Writing Club and read aloud to residents who had lost eyesight on the primary campus. They organized the weekly Trivia and duplicate Bridge competitions.
But (who would have guessed?) my parents aged. Last winter they both fell on the ice within a week of each other. That's when my siblings agreed to move them into River Ridge.
My parents didn't like the tighter quarters and the higher price, but they were relatively content.
Then: COVID.
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Can we just say all hell broke loose? Friendship Haven needed to isolate residents in their rooms to prevent the deadly outbreaks seen across the country in care facilities.
I respect that. But I also know how hard isolation is on residents, which is why I was relieved to be able to house my parents in my home for at least the first months of this "other" reality.
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Then, just as school started, necessitating my parents' return to Friendship Haven, the facility experienced a major sprinkler-system malfunction, destroying two levels of apartments in an independent-living wing.
The process of re-homing residents necessitated loosening COVID safety measures.
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Today the CEO shared another level of woe: New guidelines require care centers to test their staff for COVID. While the machines to do this have been provided by the government, the testing supplies have not. The testing (needed, important) will cost Friendship Haven tens of thousands of dollars.
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I see this U.S. COVID situation as a trickle-down disaster caused by our country's unwillingness, inability, and failure to manage a pandemic.
This post feels dense and depressing.
It didn't start out that way.
Enough.
Be well.
Write.
Allison
Celebrating first smiles and leg rolls! Fattening up!
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